I live in a country that is not mine with people...that the more years go by, the more I find that I have less in common with. I cannot go back to my country because it is a mess. America, the land of opportunity, sometimes feels like the prison I find myself in. I am used to the ease of the Western lifestyle. I am addicted to the luxury of a lifestyle here. And yet my heart yearns for the familiarity tasted in my childhood in Nepal. I long to be surrounded by the familiar tastes and smells of Kathmandu. But then I remind myself of the other, darker, not so romantic reality of Kathmandu, and I come to connect and talk with other Nepalis in sajha.com. I don't feel comfortable enough to express my personal feelings. So instead I type on my key board to express my frustration of what is going in Nepal. And all that comes out are words and emotions that are over-used and cliche on sajha.com. Like cigarette smokers finding commonality in the smoking hut, we come togethor to inhale other people's second-hand smoke as we exhale our frustrations about the situation in Nepal.

I was so happy to escape to America and leave behind the state of affairs that was Nepal. Today I have some stability in America. And my heart longs for the familiarity of Nepal. Whenever I go to a Nepali gathering, I am reminded of where my heart belongs. That is when I miss Nepal. Because of Nepal's condition and my American conditioning, the decision to go back to Nepal is becoming more and more difficult with every year that goes by. America, for this Nepali, feels less like heavan and more like prison. But if you threaten to kick me out of here, I will protest very loudly. What a dillema?